Palace

By Eli Harris

For Jacob Forman

Studying you,
Like you are studying me.

Your low grade headache, your compression of the air.
Crushing the threads of celluloid, underneath of your feet.

A shame that all your photographs are free.
You, talking loudly in the restaurant about the bigger idea of everything, overall.
Multiple attempts.

You, on the other side of the booth closest to the restroom,
at the French restaurant in Winter Park, Florida.
Thinking we could have another go.

You’re on version four. You’ve made changes since the last draft.
You’ve added slices to the pie. New layers, until it’s too much and too many.

You have the blood—-
Of a tiger.
Pumping up.

You have the heart—-
Of a banshee.
Speaking through your songs.
And through your likeness.

Speaking loudly of your sister, whom was born with an extra tooth.
Or, at least, a disposition to it.
You, born breech. Born a star.

eli harris is a 27 year old writer both from and in los angeles, CA. 
he writes in multiple disciplines, mostly about technology, memory, tradition, jeopardy and baseball.